The Awakening
by Telperiel
Summary: The Story of Glorfindel's re-birth and return to Middle Earth. Most chapters are rated lower but there are references to slash and violence.
1. Chapter 1

Glorfindel blinked. There was light. Light on his face and he felt warmth on his body.

Warmth…

He took in a deep breath. His lungs filled with sweet, clean fragrant air.

He blinked again, idly wondering what time it was and whether he needed to get up yet and head down to the barracks.

The first thing he realised was that he wasn't looking at his cream ceiling but a bright blue sky, dotted with fluffy white clouds. Then, as he moved his hand at his side it brushed against grass, not the usual cool linen of his bed sheets.

Had he fallen asleep in the gardens? How had that happened?

He frowned slightly, trying to remember the events of the previous evening. What had he been doing? More to the point where was Thel and why hadn't he helped him home? He guessed that he must have disgraced himself with overindulgence to have been left outside and not be able to remember at the same time.

But his head didn't hurt and he didn't ache anywhere.

The golden elf placed his palms flat to the ground and pushed himself into sitting. He looked down was surprised by his clothing. He was dressed in a simple green tunic and cream leggings. Barefooted. He didn't recognise the garments.

Looking about he also realised that he didn't recognise the part of the garden he had woken up in. Which was odd, considering that he knew most every inch of the city, or so he had thought. Was this Turgon's private garden? He'd been there before too but perhaps this was one part he had not been privy too? He reached a hand up to run through his hair, a habit he held when nervous.

If it was Turgon's garden, he needed to get home before he was found. The King would certainly want to know why one of his Captains had spent the night sleeping there and Glorfindel had no answers for him. He worried about just what events had led to this and decided it would be best to find out sooner rather than later.

He rose and headed off along the path to his left, hopefully back towards the houses, which he strangely couldn't see at the moment through the trees. The fact of which worried him slightly, though he felt nothing but peace in this place and found it difficult to let the fear settle in his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

A little way along and he could hear singing from around the bend. The elf picked up his pace and headed towards the other, thinking to find some answers.

Rounding the corner the elf saw a woman knelt by the water's edge. She was singing softly, her voice a haunting melody. It spoke of tragedy and loss but of hope and re-birth. He stopped a way behind her on the path, not wishing to disturb her further, because he could see that she was weeping and it touched something inside of him.

Her song came to an end and she turned to look at him. She was smiling, in spite of the tears which graced her fine features and made her eyes shine. She was beautiful and shone with ethereal light.

Without even thinking, Glorfindel went to one knee before her. "Herinya," he murmured, knowing she was not of elven kind, "have you been sent for me?" It was an odd question for him to ask, but he thought it to be true.

"I have Laurefindil. Sit with me for a while child, there is much we should speak of." She had stood and opened her arms to him as if a mother to her child and the golden elf, feeling a sudden sense of dread and foreboding went forward hesitantly.

"Mana nalyë?" he asked quietly. "This is not Turgon's garden is it? Where am I?" He looked about, chest tightening and heart pounding. His eyes were wide and the Lady still smiled and still her tears fell. He reached her and as he did so she took him into her arms, wrapped in a tight embrace and began to sing once more.

A prickling sensation began in the back of his mind. Something. Something he should remember. Was it about last night? It felt important. He tried to pin it down, all the while feeling oddly comforted by the lady and her song. though he did not know why he needed to be.

As she sang he felt his mind begin to open, like a flower unfurling before the first morning light. Flashes of colour. A glimpse of a face. A sound of a voice. A smell…of smoke.

Glorfindel collapsed in Nienna's arms. He did not know how long for. He slipped out of all consciousness and let the darkness take him once more. But this was not like before, for he had been re-born. He knew that now. His memories poured into him like an empty vessel and he could do naught to stem the flow. In his mind he screamed and raged and wept and beat his chest. All the while the Lady of the Vala held his limp form and sang her song. And wept.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead,  
Dear as the blood ye gave;  
_**_**No impious footstep here shall tread **_**_  
The herbage of your grave;  
_**_**Nor shall your glory be forgot **_**_  
_**_**While Fame her record keeps, **_**_  
Or Honor points the hallowed spot  
Where Valor proudly sleeps._**

_**Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone, **_**_  
_**_**In deathless song shall tell, **_**_  
When many a vanished age hath flown  
The story how ye fell;  
_**_**Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight, **_**_  
Nor Time's remorseless doom,  
Shall dim one ray of glory's light  
That gilds your deathless tomb. _**

**_The Bivouac of the Dead  
_**_**by Theodore O'Hara**_

The golden elf came slowly back to consciousness and eventually his eyes opened onto bright light once more. Not a dream. Not just a terrible nightmare. A great sob heaved itself from his chest and he collapsed. If it were not for the surprising amount of strength in the arms that held him he would have fallen to the ground, but the Vala did not let go.

Nienna held Glorfindel, stroking through his hair as his tears soaked through onto her skirts, bundled as he was like a child on her lap. She cried also, but made no sound. Her tears being a part of her as she wept for his grief that she might in some way help him to heal.

There were no words for how Glorfindel felt. All of his memories had flooded into him of The Fall of his beloved city. He recalled eerily with great clarity each and every face he had looked upon that night. The sounds and smells assaulted his senses as he was forced to re-live and recall the screams of terror of the men, women and children who had finally run screaming into the night from the horrors that pursued them. The orcs had cut them down as they fled, not caring to save any but had even rent the bodies limb from limb of those who had fallen. They defiled and pillaged as they ransacked through the houses and streets, shouting gloatingly at each other as they found another hoard or another family who had tried to hide from sight until they could find a time to slip out unnoticed. He recalled with horror, his gorge rising, coming upon a group who had cornered and corralled one small group of young elves and had torn clothing from them, raping them even as they were dying.

Glorfindel leaned over from Nienna and retched dryly, not having anything in his stomach yet in his new life. He slipped onto the ground and dragged himself down to the water's edge, splashing his face. He rolled onto his back and wrapped his arms about his chest in a vain attempt to quell the tremors which ravaged through him.

His memories went on unraveling, it seemed that they were destined to play out whether he wished them to or not. He recalled rushing into the King's Square. All of the guards of the House of the king were there. Many had fallen and they were engaged in battle in earnest with a mighty number. He had little hope in their success. He rallied his own soldiers and was about to charge in when Tuor had come upon him. Staying to hear him he had been told that Turgon had fallen, that they needed to retreat. The city would fall and there was now only hope in escape.

It was then that he had seen what was before him and his chest had tightened. Ecthelion staggered into view, followed by the enormous figure that he recognised from the Nirnaeth. Gothmog, Lord of all balrogs was chasing him down, whip flicking perilously close. His arm was badly wounded and even from this distance he could see that it was a grievous injury from the way that it hung loosely at his side. He shouted hoarsely and he had looked up, their eyes meeting across the square. Time had stood still in that instant as the creature had closed in the last of the distance between them before the central fountain.

Glorfindel's cry had rent itself from his lips as he went to rush forward to give aid, but Tuor's grip had been strong and he had been joined by Eglamoth who's force was great. They held him back from the battle and shouted to him of things he did not hear as he could only watch with pain filled horror as the events unfolded. Too quickly for anyone to have crossed the distance and too many of the enemy to have cut through in between the pair as they fought. He couldn't tear his eyes away if he had wanted to.

Ecthelion gave a mighty swing of his sword and Gothmog's whip connected with it. Glorfindel watched as the sword fell, both arms now rendered useless and it was a matter of seconds before the inevitable came. He was almost blinded by tears as he saw the spiked helm driven into the creature's chest and both fell into the fountain behind them, steam billowing around and obscuring them from view. The arms about him had loosened a little as their owners stood shocked and the Lord of the Golden Flower had fallen onto the flagstones in his grief.

It was then that Glorfindel's thoughts faltered, darkness claiming him and he knew nothing for a time within the gardens where he now lay. His mind grew blank as it protected itself and his broken heart from the pain.


	4. Chapter 4

_**For I wondered that others, subject to death, did live, since he whom I loved, as if he should never die, saw dead; and I wondered yet more that of myself, who was to him a second self, could live, he being dead. Well said one of his friends, "Thou half of my soul"; For I felt that my soul and his soul were "one soul in two bodies": and therefore was my life a horror to me, because I would not live halved. And therefore perchance I feared to die, lest he whom I had much loved should die wholly.**_

_**-St. Augustine, Confessions, Book IV**_

It was a long long time before the golden elf could be roused from the sanctity of oblivion in unconsciousness. About him Arian was bright in the gardens of Lorien and Nienna sat by. She had taken him once again into her arms and stroked out his hair upon her lap and where it lay pooled about them. Her tears never ceased but her expression was that of one who has long been resigned to such hurt and sorrows, though not complacent.

Eventually though she reached for him within the depths of his mind and called him back to life once more. His body was living and breathing again and needed the care and nourishment of all of the incarnated children. Slowly and reluctantly he blinked open his eyes which had never dried, smooth cheeks wet with them and as soon as he was fully awake and aware his face contorted in grief. The mask which he would secure in later years, the set expression which he would hold in place whenever sorrow took him in company and he needed to be strong had not yet been thought of, let alone perfected and so the pain which tore through his newly formed body was all too apparent.

It was too much. Too much for him to hold and so he didn't, he let grief have him for a time and do with him what it would. In his mind all he could see was the last image of his beloved Ecthelion before the monster and the billowing steam obscured him from view for the last time. The last time they had looked upon the other. Then back further. Their last embrace as both Lords set off in opposite directions to lead their houses as the battle had begun. The last words spoken in parting.

They had held each other in a crushing embrace, others all about doing similar with loved ones as they heard the trumpets sounding and before the screams had begun in earnest. Whispered endearments, words of encouragement and promises to be strong. "Wait for me Ehtelë," Glorfindel had said fiercely, looking into silver grey eyes, unwavering and brokering no argument, "no matter what happens, wait for me. I will not loose you. I cannot."

It took a long time before he was able to be coherent but soon a thought struck him and he sat, shaky and drawing his knees up before him and looked at Nienna with a spark of hope in his eyes. "How long? How long before I may see him? Is he back yet? Am I first? How long?" He did not even think to say a name, though he had uttered nothing since their first meeting and he had crashed with the force of his memories. Yet the Vala needed no name.

"That is not my place to tell you Laurefindil. You are first, though you shall not be permitted to stay and wait. I am to take you soon to Lord Manwë and you will be told all that you need to be. Rest now and eat. You will need your strength again soon." She produced forth water and and fruits and set them down before him. Glorfindel looked at them not but crumpled at the news he had been delivered.

_He couldn't stay? He couldn't wait? No! That could not be! He had sworn a promise, one he would not willingly break and was bonded by marriage. How could he be sent anywhere?!_ His heart was breaking with the loneliness that he already felt for the loss. He sobbed uncontrollably as he had not done since he was a child. He cried for Ecthelion, for himself, for all of those that had been lost on that night and for all that they had shared before. He cried great sobs which shook him and he cared not. Half of his very being was still enclosed in the numbing darkness of the Halls and he knew not when it would be rejoined.

The Vala let him to his grief for a time longer, her compassion knowing no bounds, but all too soon she knelt beside him and spoke soothing words, soft yet commanding and although Glorfindel had no want to do so, listened and obeyed her will.

So began his awakening, though Nienna feared greatly for his fading and had counselled Lord Manwë against this.


	5. Chapter 5

And so it was that Glorfindel of Gondolin no longer, broken and in much pain was guided gently through the gardens, without paying any heed, helped upon a horse and led to the mountains. He ascended Tanquetil and was brought before Manwë Súlimo, in his Halls at the top of the world. He had not been in the presence of the Vala before and even in his current state the power before him was intimidating and he knelt before him.

There were no words spoken aloud but the elf heard them in his mind as though borne on a breeze. The timbre was commanding and he looked up to gaze upon the both beautiful and terrifying face of the lord he had been brought to.

"_Laurefindil, you have been informed you are to return to Arda, you have a great task ahead of you Child. I sense you are not in accordance with this but I would have you know that this is beyond you and beyond me. That the power of Fate cannot be ignored and this is yours. Your self-sacrifice was recognised from amongst your people and as you were one who has not blood on their hands, it is you who shall go_."

Glorfindel listened with an unchanging expression, his tears having stopped and some semblance of dignity at least he had found. He knelt still but now he was beginning to at least be able to think once more, to rationalise what he was being told, what was happening to him, if not make sense and agree with it at all. Although Lord Manwë was silent for a pause, he filled not the silence with questions of his own. Not yet, this was not the time, he deemed, for he would hear all and think upon the decrees being made before he voiced an opinion or made an argument in any way. One thing that the golden elf was known for was his rationality.

"_You will go and give allegiance to the heir of Eärendil, who lived because of you and sired two children, one of whom will have a great import in the fates of the world. You are to aid him in war and in peace and stay with him until it is the due time to return here once more. You are not as you once were Laurefindil, for this task is great and because of your part you shall have powers as of the lesser Ainur, though you are of the Firstborn still. You shall go now and live with your people again and learn. Learn well from those who will aid you and when it is time, you shall go_."

The wind died down and the voice trailed off and it seemed that he was being dismissed. As the Vala had spoken Glorfindel had been growing more agitated though and he stood now, facing the platform upon which which Lord Manwë stood and there was a passion in his eyes that had been dimmed since his re-birth. The truth had been clear in all he had spoken and yet the elf was loathe just to accept this fate without question, for he felt the injustice deeply.

"Lord Manwë!" he spoke up, voice ringing loudly, amplified through the nature of the place in which he stood and causing all of those heralds and Powers who were also gathered to look upon him with astonishment. For Glorfindel looked as one of themselves at that time and they knew for themselves the power that the he had been bestowed.

"You tell me what I am to do and speak as though it were a great honor that I should be grateful to have given to me to receive this task. You say it was my self-sacrifice that has won me these duties and that it is fate which has me bound to them. I ask you then, why am I being sent away and told I may not return until due time has passed if this is an honor? Why can I not be allowed to uphold my own vows and promises, made in the name of Eru Ilúvatar, that I would have to go as such? You say honor it was that has brought me here and that I should be given such duties, but what honor is there in being re-born without first being given the dignity to heal? Would you explain this to me?"

There was silence for a beat in the open Halls on the peak of the mountain. That he would speak as such was not anticipated and certainly not to question the graces he'd been given.

"_It is done, Laurefindil," _was his answer_, "and in time you shall understand that the will of the world is greater than for the individual and that sometimes we must live through events before we can see their true purpose for the good of all. Go now to your people and perhaps, if you still need to, we may speak again, once you have had some time_."

And it was at that moment that his heart grew cold against the Vala before him. Glorfindel of the Golden Flower, who had always followed the will of the Valar, chastised those who spoke ill of them. Glorfindel with the bright and merry countenance. Glorfindel with the positive outlook on life who could see the good in every outcome and bring cheer to the darkest of places.

He turned and followed as he was lead back down the mountain and was taken to dwell amongst those who had remained in the beginning. Those who had not the curse of the exiled. It had ever been the banished of the House of Finwë whom had dared to speak against the Laws and Customs governing them, though he had refrained. He did so still now, but only on the outside.


End file.
